Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: The Burning City, Altbert (1)
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Altbert’s Beitasser Church was solemn and pious, yet humble. Since it took the Light God Shild as its patron, Beitasser wasn’t a particularly popular denomination in the Dane Kingdom.
-Creak.
Pushing open the heavy church doors, Fernandez headed for the nave. The worship hall was vividly colored by the multicolored light streaming through the ornate stained glass. A priest who had been kneeling and praying before the keyblade statue bowed his head and spoke.
“Worship hours are over, brother.”
“I have business here, Father.”
“Welcome, lost lamb.”
The priest slowly rose and looked at Fernandez. True to his station as a war god’s servant, he was a man with a large scar across his face. His sturdy build and sharp gaze stood out. The priest extended a hand to Fernandez.
“Do you need shelter?”
“I need information. Please, call me Albert.”
“Peace, brother. I am Barrein.”
“Peace be with you exceedingly.”
Fernandez nodded with a smile. Priest Barrein returned a warm smile. His lips parted soundlessly.
-Brother, do you need something?
-A place.
-Follow me.
The two conversed silently with their lips as they headed to the priest’s chambers.
*
The priest’s chambers were austere and spartan, fitting for the Beitasser Order that despised worldly luxuries. When Barrein poured a glass of water and brought it over, Fernandez spoke.
“Brother, when did you arrive?”
“A few days ago, Brother Fernandez. I haven’t heard of your mission—were you in the area?”
“I’m not currently attached to headquarters.”
“We all wander astray once in a while, brother.”
Barrein smiled warmly and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was a map of Altbert covered in notes and scraps.
“So, what information do you need?”
“First, I’d like to hear about your mission, brother. I haven’t seen any records of heresy cases in this region.”
“A few days ago, there was an incident with missing Shild priests. I was dispatched here to investigate.”
It was certainly a mission worthy of the Heretica. Barrein—whose real name was unknown—but Fernandez recalled seeing him in the briefing for the Chainbreaker mission.
“I was investigating local indigenous heresy cults. Do you know anything about the Buried Church?”
“There are a few records.”
The Holy Pantheon held investigative and adjudicative authority over heresies through the Beitasser Church. Among the order’s vast heresy archives, there would surely be some on the Buried Church. Fernandez eyed the map pinned with Barrein’s investigation notes.
The area where the Shild priests had vanished was in the city’s western market district.
“My torchman happens to be dispatched to that area, brother. If it’s not stealing your thunder, may I investigate the region first tonight?”
“I’m working on another angle. It’s fine.”
Barrein nodded readily.
*
Baie-mier was carefully polishing his armor with an oil-soaked cloth. When was the last time he’d donned it and charged into enemy lines?
-Knock knock.
“Sir Baie-mier, may I come in?”
“Ah, come on in.”
A young knight opened the door and entered. Baie-mier paused and looked toward the door. He was one of the prince’s retainers, a bastard from a nameless house who hadn’t even inherited a decent sword, let alone armor—the one the prince and he had taken in.
“Sir Jairn, what brings you?”
“His Highness the prince bids you prepare.”
“And Sir Paliamen?”
“He’s a day’s ride away, holding position.”
-Step. Step.
Jairn approached slowly as he replied. Chainmail clinked faintly beneath his surcoat. Baie-mier glanced at the longsword hanging from Jairn’s swordbelt and said,
“Hm, you’re armed?”
“Blood winds are blowing soon.”
“Hah, young blood! Good. Anything else to relay?”
“Ah, Princess Moria had a message.”
“...What?”
Jairn slowly gripped his sword hilt. Before Baie-mier could react, Jairn drew his blade with a sneer.
“The Round Table knights are toothless old men now.”
“...Hah. You filthy...”
“And the first Round Table knight to fall means the next seat is yours.”
“Traitor... This is how you repay His Highness’s grace!”
“Sir Paliamen won’t make it anyway. Her Highness Princess Helrga already knows all of Prince Helrga’s plans.”
Baie-mier reached for his sword. Carelessly tidying his armor, it leaned against the distant bed. Jairn stood unhurried, blade in hand. Perfect stance. One he’d taught himself...
Baie-mier smiled sadly.
*
It was nearing midnight. Fernandez slowly opened his eyes. He sheathed the sword resting on his thigh and stood. Across from him, Abel stirred groggily from her doze and looked at him.
“Going?”
“Rest a bit more.”
“No. Do you mistake me for some tavern wench? I am a dragon.”
“That’s why you should rest. We might need a dragon soon.”
Fernandez couldn’t bring himself to say she was too flashy for infiltration. Abel caught on quick and pouted.
“I can’t shift to a less conspicuous form. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. It won’t take long.”
He buckled on his swordbelt with its longsword and tucked daggers into his waistband.
“You reckless fool. Come back unharmed.”
Fernandez left the room without a word.
*
Altbert was a free city without curfews. No bold criminal would dare mischief here, with the Round Table Council and royal guard present—they’d all died out a century ago at least.
Thus, the market district bustled even at night with shops open late. As the kingdom’s most prosperous city, logistics flowed ceaselessly.
Fernandez scanned the market street, pausing before a food stall. The merchant gave him a friendly smile.
-Tails on us.
‘I know. Moria?’
-That witch is cunning. Probably testing us or eliminating potential threats.
‘Good. Perfect.’
Fernandez gripped his sword hilt slowly. Rest had restored him well. His abdominal puncture wound was nearly healed—an astonishing rate, near-trollish.
He turned into an alley. He sensed someone following. Confirming the area deserted enough, Fernandez spun to face his pursuer.
The man was dressed like a well-armed mercenary. He staggered toward Fernandez as if drunk. Amateurish acting.
“From the princess?”
The man froze. As if he’d never staggered, he squared up warily.
“You noticed?”
“Move that obviously, and a three-year-old would spot you.”
“Impressive.”
-Shing.
The man drew his sword with a grin.
“Your prince’s schemes won’t succeed. Young knight. You die here.”
“...Huh.”
Besides hunting the Buried Church, they were plotting something else? The prince had seemed ominous, but hadn’t asked favors or explained plans to Fernandez.
-They’re prepping a rebellion?
‘And it failed?’
-In your past life.
‘So Helrga III ruled until Vicente II. Moria behind it.’
The puzzle clicked. Prince Helrga, backed by the Round Table, hadn’t ascended because of Helrga III’s long reign alone. Fernandez grinned back at the man.
“This time, it’ll succeed.”
“What?”
As the man faltered, Fernandez’s hand flashed. A dagger sprang from his empty-seeming fist. Before the man could ready himself, it flew.
-Clang!
“Guh! Dishonorable...!”
The man parried the dagger swiftly. Knocking aside a black-painted throwing knife in a dark alley was no mean feat. He was an elite knight, barely blocking with a crossguard.
Surprise attack, but blocked! The man lowered his hilt, poised to lunge. Swordplay, and he wouldn’t lose—
-Crack!
Fernandez closed in unseen and slashed his throat. The man’s head hung midair, then tumbled bloodily to the ground. Fernandez flicked blood from his blade, eyeing the rolling head.
‘How’d Moria thwart the prince’s rebellion? Assassination?’
-Killing the prince then would’ve prevented Vicente II’s birth.
‘Did the princess have forces for that?’
-Not within the kingdom. The Round Table holds the military. Some other way...
-BOOOM!!!
Then, a massive fire erupted from a market corner, shaking the ground! Fernandez kicked off a wall onto a rooftop. An entire street blazed; people fled in panic.
“Fire!!”
“Guards!! Royal guards!! Fire!!!”
“Run!! It’s spreading!!”
The market descended into chaos. Fernandez growled low, spotting a flash amid the flames. A faint herbal scent wafted from the blaze. An alchemist’s workshop explosion.
“Kirhas... I told her not to infiltrate...”
Through the flames, he saw Kirhas fighting someone. Soot-streaked, she darted frantically.
*
“Princess!! Princess!!”
“What is it?”
Princess Moria frowned at her rushing attendant. She was delicately mixing reagents; interruption now would ruin the precious batch.
“F-Fire in the market!”
“Why tell me?”
“The alchemist’s workshop is burning!!”
“...What?”
The prince’s doing? But how could he know about the workshop? Moria sprang up, heedless of spilling reagents, and shouted.
“M-Master?!”
“No word! W-What do we do?”
“Master can control flames!”
If fire broke out and they couldn’t suppress it—escalating publicly, at this timing—something had happened to her master. How long had they prepared for this plan!
“Prepare!! I’ll go myself!”
“Isn’t it dangerous?”
“If those useless men had done their jobs, the prince would be crippled now. What danger?!”
Moria threw on her cloak and bellowed.